Horses of Hetalia
by GirlInTheMask
Summary: During Gakuen Hetalia, Seychelles gets all eight countries to go for a day of riding after a long week of decorating the school. But when the horses go missing, one by one, the gang has to find out who, or what, is responsible.
1. Saturday Silliness

_Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Hetalia!_

 _A/N: For all you Hetalians and horse-lovers, a little Christmas present from moi!_

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 **Horses of Hetalia**

Chapter 1 – Saturday Silliness

The morning had come faster than I expected. Then again, I suppose that's what happens when you get up early on a Saturday morning. But I didn't mind. I'm usually an early riser anyway. And as I dressed very specifically for what I had in mind to do that day, I made sure I was also wearing a cheerful expression, since no one else likely would. I had been looking forward to this day, but that didn't mean everyone else was. Still, when I took one final look at myself in the mirror, I hoped that some of my cheerfulness would rub off on them. And even if it didn't, I was determined to have some fun after a long week of hard work.

But despite all my mental preparations, I was still plagued with anxiety over whether any of the countries would respond to my invitation at all. More than one of them was probably still lying in bed after tossing my note in last night's fire. We all hadn't hung out together in a long time, since the Cross National Party, in fact. But usually, getting them all together in one place didn't bring entirely good results. Hopefully though, they'd at least read the notes I placed in their rooms, and they all liked me despite their differences. Maybe this would work.

To keep my worries at bay, I focused on what was in the halls in front of me. The results of a week of careful planning and detailing. It was already December, which mean Christmas would soon be coming, which in turn meant that we had to decorate the entire campus from top to bottom. Even so, from the time I walked out my dorm to when I neared the conference room, I couldn't help but marvel at what our efforts had produced. The walls were lined with sparkling silver and gold laced greenery. Bouquets of poinsettia had been laid out. And I could see outside that even though the courtyard was now decorated with freshly fallen snow, the fountain and the benches had gold bells hanging from red and green ribbons.

Every so often there was a wreath, and the biggest one was at the front entrance. But right outside the conference room, my attention was caught by someone trying to hang one more underneath a window. He looked like he was having trouble on top of that ladder, but I didn't want to startle him by falling off. Clearing my throat to get his attention, I called out, "Hello? Do you need help?"

He turned around toward me and smiled. "Oh, good morning Miss Seychelles! No thank you, I'm perfectly alright!"

"Are you sure?" I asked. "It looked like you couldn't get the wreath to hang."

"Oh I was just trying to keep my balance. I'll be okay. By the way, that's an interesting choice of dress you got on."

I blushed a little bit at the comment. "It's just for today. I know it's cold and it's snowing but, I just wanted to get out."

"Well, I hope you have a fun day!" His smile grew, and I couldn't help but return it.

"Thank you!" But when I turned to face the door, my smile dropped slightly. I knew there was a chance most of them at least wouldn't respond, but I didn't want to be disappointed. Still, I knocked on the door and then made my way into the conference room where we held the party months ago.

And my eyes widened in surprise as I saw all eight of the countries I'd sent notes to. There they all were, lounging near the great fireplace, and even dressed in the clothes I told them they should wear. To my even greater surprise, it looked as though there hadn't been any fights between any of them. At least, not yet. Then again, one can never be too careful. I knew this very well when everyone turned and looked at me.

"Oh, Seychelles!" Italy grinned widely. " _Buongiorno_! We were wondering when you'd show! I was starting to think I'd been set up so I made a white flag!" He then picked it up and waved it enthusiastically for everyone to see.

"Good morning, everyone," I tried to smile back. "I'm glad you all could make it. I didn't think it would happen."

"Then why send letters to us in first place?" Russia asked, smiling yet looking suspicious.

"A better question would be why we had to come wearing this dandified gear?!" Britain spoke up, obviously put out. I had a feeling he'd react that way. Same thing for France, who immediately stood up and stared Britain down.

"Well, I'll have you know I think I look _magnifique_!" he said as he then blew a kiss in my direction. My cheeks instantly felt toasty.

"You always think you look great, dog face! Instead of shoving your face in ours constantly, why don't you shove it up your –"

"I don't know about you guys, but I feel great this morning!" America interrupted him. "Sure every non-Jew in the world has better things to attend to on Saturday mornings, but a hero must never be tired!"

"I only hope one of those things is not a hangover," Japan suddenly said. "Not that I had much to drink last night."

"Speaking of which," China spoke up, "that _sake_ was pretty good! It makes me glad to know you learned at least one useful thing from me!"

Throughout all this, I noticed Germany was getting pretty frustrated. And it seemed no matter how many times he did, the others never got the message that Germany getting angry was never a good thing. The more red in the face he got, the more I wanted to crawl away into a corner. But I planted my feet to the floor and stayed where I was. Until Germany finally exploded, spewing forth his anger like a volcano does its lava.

"Enough already, you _dummkopfs_! Can't you see Seychelles has something she wants to say?! Something zat, oh I don't know, has somezing to do with why she called you miserable morons here zis morning?! Why can't you ever behave yourselves ven ve get togezer?!"

Finally deciding I'd had enough of him, I managed to summon back my own voice. "Thank you, Germany." But he went on with his ranting and raving.

"Vy, ze next time something like zis happens again, I'm going to take my own var machine and bang your empty heads against it!"

Now I knew I had to stand up to him, show him he wasn't exactly behaving well either. With a firm, steady voice, I said, "Yes, thank you, Germany."

At last, he seemed to get the message. His redness of face suddenly turning into one of embarrassment with himself, Germany sat back down where he was sitting and began mumbling to himself. The only words I heard were, "Never get to use the var machine."

I wanted to roll my eyes, but my attention was quickly diverted when I heard Italy say, "Go on Seychelles! We're excited to hear whatever you have to say!"

His appreciative words made my smile return to my face as I finally spoke. "Now, thank you all for coming. I know the notes I sent you last night were kind of on short notice, considering that we've spent the last week decorating the campus."

"Yes, and some of us should probably be sleeping in," Britain said, his last words spoken through gritted teeth. While I knew this was directed at France, who simply rolled his eyes, I couldn't help but glance at Japan. His head was now in his hand, and I wondered if I should take him to the health office.

"But why wouldn't we come here if you sent us notes?" Britain asked, pulling me back. While his tone wasn't the most friendly, I was, oddly enough, touched at the question. It brought new warmth to the smile I was desperately trying to keep intact.

"Glad you asked, Britain, I was just getting there. I just thought we could all do something to celebrate the end of the long weekend, something none of us have done in a while. And when I thought about it, I came up with the idea that we should all go horseback riding!"

Right when I said those words, all eight countries leaned forward and said, "WHAT?!" I'll admit I was a little startled when I usually am not so easily. And before I could say or do anything else, each one started giving their own back-to-back reaction.

"Alright!" America fist-pumped. "I've been wanting to show everyone my skills with horses! Remind the world why I have cowboys! Yeehaw!"

Seizing the moment to try and regain control, I held up my hands at him. "Hold on America. I need everyone's 'yes,' not just yours."

I then made my rounds, starting with China. He smiled. "Why not? It'd be nice to remind everyone I don't just have horses for meat."

Russia smirked when I looked at him next. "I know everyone has to say yes because otherwise I'd trample them with my own feet!"

Not too comfortable with the response, I quickly turned to France. "Oh, I would love for you to ride a horse behind me, _ma cherie_." He winked at me, causing me to raise my eyebrows as I then looked at Britain, uncertain the whole time of what he'd say.

His frown was stiff. "The only time I'd want to be near France on a horse is if I had a death wish." I frowned too, and almost let my head hang, until he added, "But, if it's what you want to do, I suppose I can face it for at least one day."

Again, though it was probably more intentional this time, I was touched by his words. Once again assured I was on his good side, I then heard Japan say, "Oh, why not? Perhaps the cold air will do my head some good. And I may need a lot of it."

Now that I got his "yes," I turned to Germany still sulking in his chair. When he realized my attention was on him, he quickly straightened. "Don't tell me again. I heard you ze first time. If it's a vay to teach zese brats some self-control, I'm signing on."

And last was Italy, who seemed to once again be off in his own little world. What it was like, I knew I would never know. But when he saw that all eyes had suddenly turned to him, he quickly came back to this one. Smiling, he raised his hand and said, "Pasta!"

And from that simple word, I knew he too had given his "okay." I grinned happily now that everyone thought my idea was good and decided to come along. "Excellent!" I exclaimed, getting a little giddy myself. "Now that everyone's said 'yes,' I think it's time we now go to the stables!"

"I'm gonna get there first, just like a hero should!" America said. While my smile remained, I crossed my arms at him.

"We're not racing, America. We're all gonna go at the same speed, and we're all gonna have some fun, am I right?" I then turned to the others to get a group response. And though they all smiled and nodded, I could tell by the looks in their eyes that they weren't exactly thrilled about doing this when we were all together. But I was still happy, not just because they decided to go after all, but that they decided to go with me.

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 _Reviews would be appreciated._


	2. Getting Acquainted

**Horses of Hetalia**

Chapter 2 – Getting Acquainted  


As we started walking to the stables together, I couldn't help but wonder which horses each of the countries would choose. I mean, I knew almost every culture in history had horses, but I also knew each had different breeds. My only real hope was that the horses would be more well-behaved than their riders. And that the riders themselves would remain calm enough to not get each other's nerves too much. Even now, I could hear Britain and France once again doing just that behind me.

"You know I ought to just smack you in the face with this riding crop!" Britain hissed.

"Go ahead," France sounded like he was smirking. "I'll just let your horse know how bad of a master you are!"

Thankfully, the sudden chilling wind that came through the opened door to the outside seemed to cool them down. But it also seemed to only draw a few more biting remarks from the other nations. I myself hugged my arms to my chest for a moment while my ears picked up what they said.

"Oh geez!" America exclaimed. "Did it have to get this cold in just a few days?! The horses themselves must be freezing!"

"Try living in a place where there's a major temperature drop in the winter!" China nudged him in the arm.

"Oh come on," Russia suddenly said. "The snow and cold is not so bad once you get used to it. I should know."

"Of course you do," Germany retorted. "You're used to it! How about ve find you a desert to drop you in?"

"Oh, I think I can help with that!" Italy exclaimed. " _Merenda_ is my favorite time of every day!"

"Not a _dessert_ you brainless _dummkopf_!" Germany said sharply. "A _desert_ , as in a hot sandy place with no end of either in sight!"

Just then, we reached the outside of both the stables. Immediately I started smelling leather and hay, and hearing the neighs and whinnies of the horses inside, and my smile quickly returned to my face. I couldn't wait to get the horse I'd had in mind the whole time we were walking here. But I also had to deal with everyone else. Turning around to face them, I put my hands together and said, "Alright, if you guys don't mind, I'm gonna go get my horse while you all get yours. Be right back!"

Before any of them could say anything else, I quickly made my way to the stables on the left, my hands almost shaking with excitement for both me and the others.

A few minutes later, after leaving my horse at the front door, I almost skipped my way back toward the other stables. And to my joy, all eight of the guys had gathered on the front, snow-covered lawn, each with a horse beside them. Suddenly giddy with anticipation, I immediately started making my rounds.

First I went to Italy, who had donned a dark red riding jacket and was trying desperately to accommodate his curling hair strand with his helmet. But I started to notice that wasn't the only problem. "Is something wrong Italy?" I asked as I walked over to him. When he noticed me, his eyes brightened.

"Oh, nothing Seychelles!" he assured me. "Helmets just make me feel short is all. But I can take it for the day if you want!"

"Well, we always want safety on our side," I said. Then, changing the subject, I turned to Italy's horse. She was a lovely cherry bay mare with expressive amber eyes, much like her rider's. Part of her mane even curled up a little bit in a way like Italy's hair did. And, fortunately, she looked just about as excited and he did.

"And who's this?" I asked, pointing to her. "She seems like a perfect fit for you, I have to admit."

"Oho! You bet she is! _Grazie_!" Italy lit up. "She's a Maremmano horse. _Molto bella_ , isn't she?"

"Yes!" I nodded as I remembered what that meant. "Very beautiful, indeed. What kind of horse did you say she was?"

"She's a Maremmano! Grandpa Rome was breeding them long before I came into the picture! She was a birthday present to me, actually! But, uh..." His voice then became low as he said to me, "Please don't tell my big brother Romano."

Knowing very well what Italy's big brother might do if he found out, I nodded eagerly. But my smile quickly returned as I asked, "What's her name?"

"Glad you asked! Her name is Stella, like the star on her forehead, see?" He pointed the white marking out to me, and I immediately remembered that Stella means "star" in Italy's language. And I didn't think she could've been named better.

"Well, like you said, she's an awfully beautiful girl!" I then placed my hand on her muzzle. But when I did, she whinnied and shot her head up as though startled. Both Italy and I stepped back for a moment, wondering what could be wrong, when Italy suddenly took my hands.

"Oh, Seychelles, your hands are cold!" he said. "That's probably why she got upset! Hold on, I know what to do." I then watched as Italy took Stella's muzzle in his hands, and started stroking it gently, saying in a soft voice, "It's alright, Stella. That's a good girl, _mia cara_. It's not that cold today."

My heart went soft as I saw Stella instantly calm once Italy touched her. "Wow, Italy, you're really good with horses."

"But of course!" Italy smiled. "I'm Italian! We've always been good with horses, especially during wartime!"

"Ja, but you're not ze only one!" I then heard Germany say. "My horse is part of ze best breed in Europe!"

I turned then to him. Germany was wearing a riding coat that looked like Italy's, but his was dark green. He also looked much less stiff in his helmet. In fact, he looked rather grand and disciplined. And right beside him stood what seemed like the perfect horse for someone like him. Almost as white as the snow underneath, he stood tall and proud and looked like a king's mount. My heart almost went to my throat as I beheld the stallion.

"Woah, I'm impressed, Germany," I said with utmost honesty. "You have good taste."

"Of course I do," Germany said with as much of a smile as he could muster. "Zis is Pluto Agostina. He's a Lipizzaner if you must know."

My eyebrows shot up. I'd heard about that breed of horse. "Oh, didn't you help breed them along with Austria and Hungary?"

"Unfortunately," Germany sighed before his small smile returned. "But, _fortunately_ , they've let me become a co-owner of ze breed."

"I helped start it too!" Italy spoke up. "I remember when they started that stud farm in Lipizza! That's how they got their name!"

"Interesting," I nodded. "But, why does your horse have two names, Germany? And why is one of them a girl's name?"

"Zere are six classical lines of the horse," Germany explained. "My stallion is part of ze Pluto line. Ze name Agostina comes from his mother. You happen to be looking at ze result of hundreds of years of fine and careful breeding. So I don't vant him to be ruined, okay?!"

I raised my shoulders a little bit in nervousness. "Oh, of course not," I assured him. "Why would I want to ruin a purebred horse like him?"

As if he knew how important he was, Pluto Agostina snorted and raised his head high. Suddenly wanting to be around a bit of a nicer horse, I nodded at Germany and went off to see Japan. He was usually more soft-spoken and reserved. Hopefully his horse would be too. Still, I was somewhat surprised to see a horse that actually looked quite a bit shorter than Japan himself. Whereas people usually look up at a horse, Japan was looking down at him. Not by much but, I was a little concerned.

"Is that your horse, Japan?" I asked, deciding to replace my concern with curiosity. "No offense but, he's kind of short, isn't he?"

Japan only smiled, as if seeing right through me to my original thoughts. "He may be short, but he's strong and sturdy if you look hard enough."

Taking his advice, I took a step back and looked carefully at his horse. He was all pitch black with a thick winter coat and an even thicker mane and tail. His brown eyes were large and soulful. But from what I could see, his hooves were big and actually looked practical for traveling in the snow.

"You're right," I admitted. "I didn't think such a little guy at first could take all this snow and cold."

Japan chuckled a little bit. "You'd be surprised. Smarer horses are actuary better for mountain travering. And most of my homerand consists of high and rocky terrain. His hooves will carry him find srough the trail today. Sat's why I named him Kuroashi. Brack-foot."

"I never thought of that," I said as I felt myself lit up. "And that's such a cute name! What kind of horse is he?"

"He's a Dosanko horse," he replied happily, before his smile caved to a frown. "I hate to say it but, most of se horses in my homerand are endangered. Ruckiry, the Dosanko is the only one sat isn't. My onry concern is sat he doesn't find a female he can kir all se other males for."

Now I frowned too, my own concern returning with twice as much force. I knew how male horses acted around other males when a female was around. And the results were definitely not pretty. Still, I forced my smile to return, even if it was smaller than before. "Well, hopefully that won't be a problem," I said, trying to keep any hint of nervousness out of my voice. "All the horses here have been fixed... At least, I hope they have."

"Well that's good!" I then heard America say. "I want my horse to focus on the only guy in front of her! Or, on her!"

I turned toward him and my eyes almost popped out at my head at what I saw. Whereas most of the countries were wearing European riding gear, America looked like a full-blown cowboy. He even had his hat on now. Standing beside him was a horse that seemed to have as much personality and he did. Her big blue eyes seemed to sparkle. She had palomino coloring with a paint pattern. And most of all, she looked about as eager as her rider to start as soon as possible.

"Now this is a true rodeo horse!" I couldn't help but laugh. "What's her name, America?"

"Sandy!" America said proudly. "What else would I have called her? Besides, every cowboy hero needs a trusty steed! The Lone Ranger had Silver, Zorro had Tornado, so I have Sandy! And she's my lady hero, ain't ya girl?" As if on cue, Sandy tossed her head like she was nodding and happily whinnied, making both me and America laugh.

"That's right!" he said. "And if you have to know, she's a Quarter horse. That means she can run a quarter-mile faster than any horse at my place!"

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Wow, I bet she could spend a whole day rounding up cattle if she wanted to!"

"Yep!" America nodded. "Just like I could spend a whole day watching football and getting drunk! Takes more energy than you think, actually."

I gave him a skeptical smirk. But just then, America lowered his voice slightly as he said, "Though, I bet she can run faster than any of the racehorses Britain gave me."

"I heard that rubbish, blasted idiot!" Britain raised his voice. "The only reason you have racehorses is because of all the breeding I've done over the years! Do you know how much blood, sweat, and tears I've spent to make Thoroughbreds, especially the ones I let you have?"

"Oh Britain, is that the kind of horse you have there?" I asked as I turned to him. His was a stallion that was slightly taller than Sandy, with liver chestnut coloring and white markings on the end of his nose and front legs. He also had well-defined muscles that no doubt served him well whenever he ran. And as if irritated with the snow that suddenly fell on him, he shook his mane until it was all out. Britain was definitely not exaggerating.

"Why, yes, Seychelles!" he replied, his hands now on his hips and a smile now on his face. "Don't you know Thoroughbreds are practically known for their racing? Mine could probably win against every horse here. Don't you think so, boy?" In a surprising move of affection, Britain reached up and scratched underneath the horse's chin, while his horse closed his eyes and savored the touch he probably thought due him.

"And, as you can most likely guess, his name is Prince," Britain then said when he was done.

"Oh! For the Prince of Wales?" I asked, silently admitting that the name was rather perfect.

"Of course!" Britain said proudly. "I could see the Queen herself wanting to buy him. But, I could never give him up. He's valuable obviously, but in more ways than one."

I smiled softly at Britain's unusual endearment toward this horse. I allowed myself for a brief moment to wonder if it was because Prince was an animal that didn't talk back rather than a human who did. But still, I didn't know for sure, and it wasn't my place to make such judgments. Besides, I didn't want to say anything to ruin this moment. That is, until France himself ruined it for me when I heard him speak up next.

"Your horse may be able to run," he said, "but did he become famous through show-jumping at ze Olympics?"

Not wishing to witness the conflict that would otherwise follow, I turned my attention to France, and one of the most beautiful mares I'd ever seen. She had fine chestnut coloring with white socks and a white blaze traveling down her face. Her blue eyes shone brilliantly, her mane and tail looked perfectly brushed, and her coat seemed almost immaculate. Her head was raised high as though she knew how beautiful she was. But as her finely toned body showed, she was far more than a pretty face.

Still, I had to say that she was. "Oh, France, she's beautiful! Stunning even. I don't think you could've chosen a better horse!"

"Why, _merci_ , _mon ami_ ," France grinned. "This is Genevieve, my Selle Français. She may not have an extensive breeding background, but she is ze finest jumping horse you could ask for! And better than zat, she's super _mignon_ to boot! Aren't you _ma belle cherie_?"

France then pulled Genevieve's face down and placed a big kiss on her muzzle. Genevieve whinnied happily at the attention, causing me to laugh.

"You said her breed got famous recently because of the Olympics?" I then asked. "Exactly how high can she jump?"

"Oh she could jump a fence five feet high at ze most," he replied. "In fact, I'd love to show you sometime today while we're on ze trail. I was thinking early this morning how nice this ride would be if it were just you and me. What do you think, Seychelles?"

Suddenly nervous about where this conversation had gone, I shook my head. "I think I've had enough for now France. Thanks for showing me Genevieve. I'm gonna go talk to Russia now." Before he could say or do anything else, I hurried away from him a little faster than I intended. I could only hope Russia would quickly grab my attention before France took it back first. Fortunately, as I beheld the horse beside him, I was instantly focused on the sight in front of me.

Russia looked a little bulky in his riding gear. Then again, he always looked a little bulky, no matter what he wore. What really got my attention was his horse. Like his rider, he was tall and muscular, with a dapple grey coat and a silvery mane and tail. He too looked handsome in his own way, but also intimidating too. Maybe it was the way his dark blue eyes focused on me, or maybe it was my own anxiety, but I sensed Russia's horse would not tolerate anyone other than his rider getting too close to him.

"What kind of horse have you got here, Russia?" I asked. "I gotta say, he's a pretty big boy."

Russia smiled as he said, "His name is Mstislav, Seychelles, and he is Orlov Trotter. He may look big but he's actually good harness racer. That's why the breed is called trotter. And they've been doing that ever since we started breeding them in the days of the great empress."

"He seems a little bit, possessive, though," I said as I chuckled nervously. "I guess he only likes you to ride him."

"Good guess," Russia kept smiling. "He's never been outside my home, so he only likes me and no one else."

"By the way," I then asked, "what does the name Mstislav mean. Sounds to me like you just made it up."

"Oh no. Mstislav in my language means 'vengeance and glory." This he said while his smile became more and more creepy with every word. "I named him that because I like to imagine him pummeling all of you with his hooves into the snow. I like to think he does, too."

Now my own smile had fled, and I knew I had to get out of here. "Oh, well, thank you for that little tidbit of information. I still need to talk to China. I hope you enjoy the trail, Russia." After saying all that as nice as I could, I turned and made my way to China, who stood only a few feet away, stroking his horse's mane.

Like Japan's horse, China's was small, reaching only to just above his shoulders. He was a stallion with a seal brown coat, thick for winter. I also noticed he had white markings that looked like the shape of China's flag on his forehead. His mane and tail were even styled like China's own ponytail. I thought he looked cute, until I noticed his big hooves. Still, he was much smaller than Mstislav, and much less intimidating, so I happily walked over to him and his rider.

"Hey China," I smiled again. "You've got a cute looking horse. He almost looks like a pony! What kind is he, and what's his name?"

"Oh, Seychelles!" China looked surprised. "So sorry. I didn't see you there... Oh, right! This is Mongolian horse. Not pony. He may look cute but his breed serve as war horse for Genghis Khan and Mongols. Definitely do not want to mess with him!"

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, chuckling despite myself. Then, curious again, I asked, "Doesn't he have a name?"

China frowned. "Actually, Mongolian horses do not usually have name. But I guess we must call him something so..." He went silent and donned a thinking expression for a moment or two before he finally lit up with an idea. "I know! I call him Junjie! In my home it means 'handsome hero!'"

"Oh! That's perfect!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands. "But, don't tell America. He'll probably get jealous."

China smirked, but just as quickly, his frown returned and looked concerned this time. "Oh, Seychelles, you still don't have horse!"

My eyebrows suddenly shot up, but they quickly came down again when I remembered. "Oh it's alright, China. I do have one. Let me go get her!" I then turned around and quickly hastened back the way I came, suddenly concerned that she was probably getting pretty shivery by now, waiting for me all alone out in the cold. Fortunately, by the time I got back to her, her eyes lit up the moment she saw me, and she whinnied. My smile immediately returned to my face, and I hugged her muzzle close.

"I know girl," I said softly. "Sorry I kept you waiting. But are you still ready to go for a ride today?"

She pulled her muzzle out of my hands and tossed her head. I laughed a little bit at her still strong energy, until I finally decided to mount her. Grabbing onto her mane and placing my hand on her rump, I hauled myself up into the saddle, and then guided her forward toward everyone else.

When I came back for them, I was pleased to see they'd all mounted their horses as well, now ready to go and waiting for me. What I didn't exactly expect them to do was widen their eyes at the sight in front of them. For a moment, I was confused, until I remembered the way I reacted to their horses. The way they looked now seemed very similar, and I couldn't help but laugh again. "Guys, meet my horse, Shimmer!" I then leaned forward in the saddle and scratched her mane.

She was a blue roan with dark but soulful eyes, and I always loved that about her, along with the way she carried her tail and held her head high. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her that she was the one for me. But I also knew for now I had to explain her to the rest of my fellow riders.

"She's an Arabian, one of the oldest breeds of horse in the world. Your breeds could probably trace their ancestors all the way back to hers."

"No wonder hers and mine look so similar!" Britain exclaimed. "And it's probably where he got his speed, too."

"Speed is of little consequence!" Germany suddenly said. "It's all about refinement. I'm sure my horse got that from hers."

"Well, now I can see why my horse is so sweet!" Italy then spoke up. "Only a horse as sweet as that could give me a horse like mine!"

I smiled softly at him. I knew Shimmer was sweet, but hearing Italy say so seemed only to make her even more so. Still, I knew we'd talked and gushed over our horses enough, and the day wasn't going to wait for us. So, letting go of the reins, I raised my hands and clapped. "Alright!" I said in a loud clear voice. "I think it's time we all did less talking and more riding. The day's still young but it's not going to wait for us. What do you say?!"

To my slight surprise, they all cheered, clearly eager to get this started. And I couldn't have been more pleased with their response. "Okay, just follow me and try to keep both your horses and yourselves behaved, please!" I then gathered the reins back and circled Shimmer around toward the front of the group. Before long, I encouraged her into a canter. And at that same moment, I heard all eight of the nations do the same, creating a cacophony of hoofbeats against the snow. Truly, I couldn't have been happier.

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 _Reviews would be appreciated._


	3. Showing Off

**Horses of Hetalia**

Chapter 3 – Showing Off  


For a while, we simply cantered through the woodlands surrounding the academy campus. The ground and the trees were both heavy with snow that sparkled in the daylight. And though the sun was shining through, the clouds overhead only seemed to predict more winter weather to come. I only hoped it wouldn't happen too soon. Still, I paid attention only to the thrill of what was happening now. Shimmer and I rode up front of everyone else. And the only sound I cared to hear was the hooves of their horses beating into the snow. But it wasn't long before I started hearing my own laughter, too.

Turning my head around briefly, I shouted, "You guys having fun? I sure am!" But right when I asked my question, I frowned when I saw one of our party was missing.

"Hey, where's Italy?" I asked. Everyone simply shrugged their shoulders and mumbled, "I don't know." Not satisfied with their answer, I directed my frown at them.

America laughed. "He probably chickened out 'cause it was too cold!" But that didn't make sense to me. Italy came and chose a horse like the rest of us. Why would he suddenly decide not to come?

Germany seemed to sigh in annoyance. "I vouldn't be surprised if he did, to be honest."

I opened my mouth to stand up for Italy, but before I could, China gave out a warning cry. "Tree!" I turned back around, and to my wide-eyed surprise, I saw a fallen tree right in our path. But my worries were quickly put to rest as I remembered what to do. Leaning forward in the saddle slightly and digging my heels in more, I encouraged Shimmer to jump over the obstacle. And she did, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Whew! That was close!" I then pulled Shimmer to a stop and turned her around so I could see the others safely make it over the tree. But still, I only counted seven when there should have been eight.

"Italy!" I called out loud, actually starting to worry he might have actually turned back. Suddenly, I heard him call back.

"Coming!" I smiled as I saw him come into view out of the trees, guiding his horse toward the fallen one in the way. I knew I wasn't the only one watching, but I was probably the only one who thought something was wrong. Italy looked very nervous as he got into the same position I did to get my horse over the tree. But instead of jumping over, Italy's horse Stella neighed as though startled and skidded to a halt. My eyebrows shot up and I gasped as Italy did a full forward flip before falling onto the ground with a thud. Immediately, everyone else started laughing, but I didn't see what was so funny... Okay, maybe a little.

"Dude, how did Italy get such a lame horse?!" America laughed, the loudest of all of them.

Germany only chuckled before he frowned. "I hate to say it, Italy, but America kind of has a point. Your horse does seem skittish."

"It's not her fault!" Italy frowned back sadly as he stood up. "It's just cold out here and she doesn't really like the cold, that's all."

I didn't want to admit it myself, but, I kind of agreed with Germany. If Stella didn't like the cold then I didn't see Italy's point in choosing her. I was about to say so, until I watched Italy gently take hold of his horse's reins and speak softly to her as he guided her over the tree, step by step. I felt the smile return to my face as I once again saw how good Italy was to his horse. I think I even forgot what I was going to say.

But my attention was once taken again when I heard Britain and France strike up yet another argument. This one seemed to be about how close in proximity they were to each other, and how stupid it was.

"I don't care how 'friendly' your horse is," Britain snarled. "If they start mingling with each other more than they should, I'm blaming you!"

France didn't say anything. He only leaned his horse Genevieve even closer to Britain's. For a second, my heart pounded as I thought France might let Genevieve kick Prince. But Genevieve only let out a playful snort before her rider led her away, laughing. Britain was, obviously, not amused.

Before anything could get any further out of hand, I quickly brought up an idea that'd been in my head for a while now. "Why don't we all take a break? Give the horses and ourselves some time to rest?"

The others looked at each other for a moment, considering the idea, before they all nodded in agreement.

"Why not?" America casually shrugged his shoulders. "Don't want anyone getting bowlegged!"

"At least not anymore than you already are, America," Russia suddenly spoke up, smiling to himself.

Before things could heat up between them, Japan spoke up next. "I hope I'm not se onry one who brought runch. I don't know if I want to share."

I smiled at him. "Good idea, Japan! And no, you're not the only one who brought something to eat. Come on, everyone. There's a nice spot over there." I pointed to the center of the field we were now in, and then swiftly jumped off Shimmer. I gave her a nice pat on the neck before unhooking the saddlebag and walking away.

Before long, we were all sitting in a circle while the horses stood nearby, digging for grass to graze on. Luckily, they didn't seem to be having trouble. But just then, Prince slowly walked over to Britain. His eyes looked to be focused on the fresh scone in his hand. And I couldn't help but smile.

"Oh Britain, Prince seems to want your scone!" I said before letting my voice break into a laugh.

"And why wouldn't he?" Britain smiled back when he noticed. "He's an English horse through and through!" Britain then broke off a small piece of his scone and handed it to his horse, who quickly ate it up. I couldn't help but chuckle. But then, as Britain turned away, I saw Prince quickly spit out the food his rider offered him. And my chuckle quickly broke into another laugh, which Britain immediately noticed.

"What is it, Seychelles?" he asked. But I didn't want to disappoint him by telling him, so I shook my head.

"Nothing," I replied, trying to hide my smile. Fortunately, Germany started talking, making both me and Britain turn his way.

"I think it's time we spiced things up a little bit for today," he said as he took a drink of his beverage.

"Aw no!" China shook his head hastily. "Whatever you're thinking, my food already spicy enough, _xiexie_."

"Mine too," America agreed. "And believe me, you don't want to know what happens when I eat _really_ spicy things."

"I'm not talking about zat!" Germany sneered. "I vas talking about showing a little of vat our horses can do. Starting vith mine, of course."

Britain raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And what is so great about your horse that you're just dying to show us, Germany?"

Germany, in a surprising show of expression, smirked. "Glad you asked, Britain." He then stood up and said out loud so everyone could hear, "Everyone, you are about to vitness ze 'Airs Above ze Ground!'" As he turned and walked toward his horse, Italy started clapping eagerly.

"Oh I've heard about this!" he said excitedly. "This is how you make the Lipizzaner horse dance, right Germany?"

Germany turned around to face him, a heavy look on his face. "I'll have you know, Italy, zat zese moves vere created in ze days ven man and horse died on ze battlefield together." Once Germany said so, Italy's smile dropped and the blood seemed to drain from his face. But everyone was now watching Germany. So I too turned to look at him as he mounted his horse, Pluto Agostina, and started walking him around.

"Vatch and learn," Germany called out. For a little while, we all continued to do as he said and watched while he walked his horse around. Just then, using his crop to tap Pluto lightly on the rump, the stallion reared on his hindquarters and remained as still as a statue before his rider allowed him back down.

But while I was actually somewhat impressed, the others didn't seem to be at all. "Okay," France stifled a chuckle, "what was that?"

Germany looked sharply at him. "Zat vas the _levade_ ," he replied gruffly. "But trust me, it gets better."

"Pff, I'll believe it when I see it," America smirked as he crossed his arms, looking very much like a cowboy. But I turned my attention quickly back to Germany as he guided Pluto into a trot. Then, right in front of my eyes, after letting out a series of small kicks, Pluto leaped into the air and kicked his back legs out behind him before landing on all fours, Germany still in the saddle. This time, I wasn't the only one who was impressed. Everyone else let out "ooh"s and started clapping.

Germany smiled, happy to finally get some applause. "Zat vas the _capriole_ ," he explained. "Now for the most difficult of all ze Airs." Turning his horse again, Germany guided Pluto into a slightly faster trot, and my heart started pounding in anticipation of what was coming.

I thought the previous move was cool, but this one was incredible. Pluto raised himself up on his hind legs as he did the first time, but as soon as he did, he started hopping forward on them. One, two, three. On four he got down again on all fours, and I along with everyone else started clapping again, much more so than before.

"And zat vas the _courbette_!" Germany practically grinned, way more than I had ever seen him do, probably.

"Not bad, Germany," Britain admitted as he smiled slightly. "Very good horsemanship, I must say."

"Ze best in ze vorld, you mean," Germany said as he dismounted. While Britain started to pout though, I couldn't help but think back on what I'd just seen. These were obviously very difficult maneuvers. Yet not once did I see any hesitation or discomfort from Pluto. Nor did I see any frustration from Germany as I'd expected. In fact, it was almost as if the two of them had become one as I watched them work together. It made me think of how special Pluto might actually be to Germany.

"So you say," Japan then said, making me turn back toward him. "But sere is more to good horsemanship san just a few comprex dance moves."

"It's not dancing!" Germany shouted angrily. "Pluto is a stallion, he has no need for such things!"

As though ignoring him, Japan went on with his usual tone of voice. "It is not just a matter of what se horse can do, but rather what you _and_ se horse can do, togeser."

Germany narrowed his eyes at him. "And vat do you think you can do vith your puny pony, Japan?"

My eyebrows shot up and my eyes widened as I swiftly turned back to Japan, who looked about as angry as his usual stoic face would allow. "Arrow me to show you, Germany. To show you all."

With that, he stood up from the snowy ground. And as he walked to his horse, Kuroashi, I noticed he was now carrying a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Without letting myself to wonder where it'd come from, I instead continued to watch as Japan mounted his short black horse. He then pointed across the field.

"See sose sree trees in a row?" he asked, addressing everyone. Everybody nodded, now curious like they weren't before. But I didn't doubt I was the most curious as I saw Japan smile before turning his horse away. He moved him toward the end of the field, before he let go of the reins, replacing them with his bow and arrow. I then watched as Japan nudged Kuroashi forward into a canter, and my eyes widened as he raised his bow and let an arrow fly. Once, twice, then three times at the targeted trees. Each of them nailing their mark.

I continued to watch in amazement as Japan took another arrow while turning his horse around, without using the reins. He then nudged Kuroashi forward again into a borderline gallop and once again shot three more arrows into the same trees. Again, they hit their intended targets. And I clapped the loudest as Japan guided his horse back toward where we were all sitting.

"Wow, Japan," I smiled. "I never knew you could do something so cool! How did you do it, by the way?"

"Simple," Japan smiled back. "I just control se horse with my regs and feet raser than the reins. Horseback archery is an art where I rive."

"Yeah," America then stood as he spoke. "But if you all wanna see something cool, you gotta check out what I can do with Sandy."

Britain shot him a glare. "And what can your blasted Quarter horse mare do that my Thoroughbred stallion can't, America?!"

"Get your butt out of the snow and I'll show you, Britain," America smirked back. I immediately felt intrigued. If America was this confident then he and his horse Sandy probably were going to do something pretty cool. I glanced at Britain as he rolled his eyes and stood up along with everyone else.

I raised an eyebrow at him as we started walking. "Gee, Britain. If you're the one who gave America all those great horses, what have you got to worry about?"

Britain opened his mouth, but as he took in what I said, he closed it again and smiled at me. "You have a good point, Seychelles. I'm glad you came along. If only to share in my joy at watching America fail."

Trying to smile back, I shrugged my shoulders and turned my attention to America, who had now mounted Sandy and gave her a good scratch at the ears before walking her forward. Despite what Britain thought, I didn't want to see America fail. I even smiled as I saw the eagerness in Sandy's eyes. She almost broke into a trot before America reluctantly reined her in. "Come on, posers!" he called. "Sandy wants to get this going!"

"Sound like it your ego that wants to get going instead of your horse!" China snapped back. As if in response, Sandy tossed her head and whinnied.

"Ha ha!" America laughed. "Can't keep a hero or his steed tied down!" I don't know if anyone noticed, but I kind of laughed too.

After a short while, we came across a small clearing near the field. There were three tree stumps forming a near perfect triangle. I turned to America, silently asking him what he was planning to do with Sandy.

"If none of you have seen or heard of barrel racing, then prepare to be amazed!" he said. "Oh, by the way, anyone got a stopwatch?"

"Right here!" France suddenly replied. He then pulled out a stopwatch I don't think any of us knew he'd brought.

"Why in the world would you bring that for today?!" Britain snapped, seizing on another chance to insult France.

"Why did you not ask Japan where he got ze bow and arrows?!" France retorted. "I never saw him carrying zose!"

"Focus everyone!" America then said. "We can discuss plot holes and seemingly random items later. Stopwatch ready France?"

France held up the watch. And the moment I thought Sandy was going to shoot out from underneath her rider, America turned her loose and galloped her to the nearest tree stump on the right. I then watched with the others as America turned her in a swift circle around it before going forward to the one up ahead. After quickly encircling that one too, he turned his horse toward the one on our left.

"Come on girl, let's go!" he shouted as he dug his heels in her sides. "Hyahh!" And go she did. One more time, America turned Sandy sharply around the last tree stump before slowing her down to canter and then a trot back toward where we stood.

"And that's how we do things in the Old West, fellas!" America said as he slowed his horse down. "What's the time France?"

"About eighteen seconds," France replied. And I became immediately startled as America started, as he called it, "whoopin'" and "hollerin.'" Still, like before, it seemed Britain was not amused at what he saw.

"Oh, come on, America," he said as he crossed his arms. "There's more to being good with a horse than running around in circles."

"You're one to talk, my British friend," France suddenly retorted. "Besides, it seems your horse may be better suited to ze polo field."

"I'll be the judge of that, Napoleon! The reason we call horseracing the 'sport of kings' is because your king wasn't around when we came up with it, and ours was!"

"Well at least I didn't surrender all of my good horses to America!" France snapped back at him. The whole time I was stepping back, wondering where this would lead, until Britain touched France with the tip of his riding crop.

"Alright then, Frenchie," he smirked. "You and me, a race around the field, now! It's about time I showed you which horse is a Thoroughbred!"

"And it's about time I showed you who was bred to be dead!" France smirked back, perhaps even more so. Immediately I became excited again, and apparently so did everyone else, now that there was going to be an actual race. Soon we'd gathered at the edge of the large field sitting against the trunks of the trees behind us. While the others were taking bets on who would win I sat next to Italy.

"You know, I've always sort of liked this sport too! Grandpa Rome started chariot racing in the colosseum!"

"Ja, but he didn't think to utilize chariots in battle," Germany sighed in disappointment. "Zat vas probably vy he initially failed to conquer Britannia." At this, I frowned at Germany. He may have admired Roman Empire, but he was also quick to point out his flaws. I was just glad Britain wasn't within earshot to hear that.

Britain and France had mounted their horses, Prince and Genevieve, and America was standing in front, acting as the referee. With both riders eager for the race to start, once they had our silent attention, America raised his arms and called out, "Okay people! Let's found out which horse is the second fastest after mine! On your mark, get set, GO!" With a drop of his arms, Britain and France kicked both their horses into a gallop, and all our eyes were locked on them as they shot forward.

At first, I thought Genevieve would win. I wanted to root for her because she definitely had more than a pretty look on her side. But as I watched them raced, I knew immediately that Prince was going to win. And I knew why he was called a Thoroughbred. His finely toned muscles carried him almost effortlessly across the snowy earth. And the look in his eyes seemed to tell me he knew this morning from the moment he was tacked would lead to something like this. He was doing what he'd been bred to do, and he loved every minute of it.

Both Britain and France leaned forward in their saddles, digging their heels into their horses' sides and holding on tight. And as they did, I had every reason to believe Britain was thinking the same things I was. Especially as Prince started gaining the lead, if only by a little. For the last stretch they remained neck in neck, and we all started cheering for our respective bet to win. I only kept my hands to my mouth, almost hyperventilating with excitement. Until Britain and his horse gained a full body in length ahead of France and his horse, and won the race.

Britain raised his fist to the air and his face seemed to beam in victory as they started to slow their horses and then turn them around. America whistled and Italy let out a high-pitched scream, probably more from the exhilaration than anything else. Still, Britain's smile was the brightest I'd seen this day, and it made me smile too.

"Good only for polo, huh? Is that what you said, France?" While I knew he was poking fun at him, I couldn't help but laugh at what Britain said. But just then, I noticed a bit of a tired look in Prince's eyes that had only just now seemed to replace the previous one of fiery passion. I also noticed he seemed to be sweating a little bit, even though it was a cold, wintery day. I immediately called both problems out to his rider.

"Uh, Britain, you might want to look at Prince," I said, calmly so as not to startle the horse. "He doesn't look so good."

Britain's smile dropped, replaced with a face of concern as he got down and looked at his horse. Luckily, he seemed to pick up the same things that were wrong as I did, and started gently petting Prince. "I had a feeling this would happen, to be honest. Sometimes Thoroughbreds can be burnt out easily. But he doesn't seem too bad, don't you boy?" The horse leaned into his rider's touch and closed his eyes, and Britain smiled again. "Just as I thought. Just needs a little rest is all."

I felt my own smile return as I once again saw how valuable Prince was to Britain. Until I turned to France when I heard him speak up. "A little tired, is he? Well, my Genevieve was just getting warmed up!"

I felt my face light up as I remembered what he said she could do. "Oh yeah. Did you say her breed got famous for show-jumping in the Olympics, France?"

"But of course," France smirked, almost flirtatiously. "Jumping takes a lot more skill and muscle than simply running in a gigantic circle."

As I expected, Britain turned sharply around and glared at him. "If you really think so then you, 'Monsieur,' are just a horse's –"

"Uh, I think I saw a fallen tree trunk that way," I interrupted, pointing to the left. "You said she could jump pretty high, right?"

France laughed. "I think we shall find out soon enough, _ma cherie_." Again, he gave me that flirtatious smirk. "I can always count on your support, you know, Seychelles?"

"Yeah?" Britain suddenly walked between us. "Well don't think of getting it from anyone else here, got that?" This he said while poking France in the chest, until he turned toward me, and frowned as though regretting what he was about to say. "But if Seychelles is going to watch, I suppose I'll have to as well."

France gasped happily then clapped his hands together. "Oh _magnifique_! You are such a good sport, Britain!" He then clapped Britain on the back as he walked by, and I could almost swear Britain was not only red in the face but steaming too. Not willing to stay, I hurried after France as he took his horse's muzzle in his hands.

"You are _tres belle_ , my sweet, just like me," he crooned. "But it's time we showed zese buffoons that zere's far more to you than just looking the little lady."

As if in response to his affection, Genevieve leaned her muzzle into her rider's cheek, making his smile grow. "I knew you'd agree!" He then jumped into the saddle (mounted just sounds wrong), and signaled for me to lead the way to the fallen tree trunk I mentioned, which I did.

I noticed as we walked toward it that Genevieve wasn't just walking. I chuckled as I saw that she borderline pranced, clearly excited to show what she could do. Almost as excited as America's horse, Sandy, was. If I had any hint of a doubt before that she was the perfect horse for France, I knew it for sure now. Even if she didn't win the race, I believed France about what she was pretty much bred to do. Just like Britain's horse, Prince, was bred to race. Though, of course, I didn't say that out loud.

We eventually came to the fallen trunk, which had actually been caught on branches on either side, keeping it raised to just below five feet. France had said Genevieve could jump that high, but even now, I felt a little bit nervous for both of them. If Genevieve didn't make this jump, either she or France could be hurt. But I said nothing as we both got out of the way of horse and rider.

"Alright France," Britain sighed and crossed his arms in frustration. "If you're going to get your horse to jump can you do it before she decides she'd rather sit on you?"

Despite wanting to cause as little heat between them as possible, a chuckle escaped my lips before I could stop it. Fortunately, I wasn't the only one who found the mental picture funny. But France seemed to brush it off as easily as he would a fly. "Gladly," he said. "Now observe, island nation."

I stopped chuckling and paid my utmost attention to France as he backed up Genevieve a few steps, before he whispered in her ear and heeled her in the sides. The horse shot forward just as she did at the race, and galloped toward the tree. I was so nervous by now I almost closed my eyes to keep from witnessing a possible disaster. But I forced them to remain open.

And I watched with a gaping mouth and now widened eyes as Genevieve sailed over the tree almost as though she were Pegasus. I immediately started clapping and cheering before everyone else. France quickly pulled his horse to a stop and turned her around, beaming just as much as Britain was when he'd won the race, if not more so. I turned toward Britain to see his reaction, but his arms remained crossed and he turned his face away, letting out a "hmmpf."

As we walked back to the main field, I laughed as I walked alongside France. "I didn't think she could actually do it, France. You really know how to breed horses after all!"

"And why would I not?" France smiled. "I am ze country of human lovers. Why should that not include horses?"

I laughed again in agreement, until someone called out my name in alarm. "Seychelles!" I only heard it right as I heard a frightened neigh. I turned to see one of the horses rearing in front of me, a wild look in his eyes. I didn't think I could get out of the way in time, so I just covered my head with my hands. Just then though, I heard a comforting voice next to the horse, and then saw that the horse's hooves were all on the ground again. I looked up and realized it was Russia's horse, Mstislav. And now Russia was calming him down.

"That's a good boy, Mstislav," he said in a surprisingly comforting tone. "No need to stomp on Seychelles. She's a friend."

It then dawned on me, the reason why Mstislav acted the way he did, and I quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, I forgot. He doesn't like to be near anyone but you, Russia."

"That's just his way," Russia frowned. "Unless I'm around, he'll stomp almost anybody who gets within five feet of him. Are you alright, Seychelles?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I nodded. "But is Mstislav okay? I kinda don't want him to try that again on anyone else."

"Oh, he should be fine now," Russia smiled slightly. "Orlov Trotters are usually very tough. They have to be for harness races and dressage."

"Dressage?" I asked, suddenly curious. "I don't think I've ever heard that word before. What does it mean?"

"It's a sport like France's show-jumping," Russia explained, still smiling. "Very high art of rider and horse working together."

"Oh, can I see?" I asked, even as I saw Mstislav's nostrils flare a little at me. In any event I kind of wanted to get away from him.

"I don't see why not," Russia now grinned. "Come on. The field is best for the showing." I nodded back, smiling again, and walked beside Russia toward the field, with everyone else trailing behind. Eventually we came back to the center where we were before, and all sat down. All while I felt my smile become more and more eager. Even though Mstislav was a bit difficult, he was still a beautiful horse. And I was once again intrigued to see what one of us could do with our horse.

"It may not look like much," Russia said. "But it takes lots of training and concentration." He now looked even taller than usual now that he mounted his horse. Indeed, he almost looked like a general or war hero. I finally understood where the stories of his great historic cavalry came from. And both my eyes were locked on him as he moved Mstislav into position and urged him into his signature trot.

At first he only started going in circles, and I knew one of us was going to ask when he was going to do something interesting, when Russia directed his horse into a crisscrossing pathway while he was trotting. I started clapping, until I realized I was the only one doing so, and stopped.

But just then, my attention was caught again when Russia urged Mstislav into a canter. Before long, I noticed the horse was changing his lead every two strides, and I didn't really think of how amusing it actually seemed until America started laughing. "Ha ha ha! It looks like he's skipping or prancing!"

"It looks to me like he's dancing like Germany's Lipizzaner horse!" Italy suddenly added, looking about as intrigued as me.

"Italy!" Germany suddenly shouted. But I quickly shushed them as I pointed at what Russia was doing with Mstislav next. He was still cantering, but Russia turned him around a full three-hundred-sixty degrees before letting him go on again. I raised my eyebrows, anticipating what he would do next, if anything at all.

I continued to watch along with the others as Russia slowed his horse down to a trot. A fast one at first, but then he got slower, and slower, still in the trotting rhythm. Until he slowed him down completely and let Mstislav trot in place. I felt my mouth drop a little, until I closed it again when Russia and his horse finally slowed to a full halt, and remembered to give him the applause they both deserved.

"I never knew horses could be so elegant!" I exclaimed. "You've really trained Mstislav well, Russia."

"Of course I did," Russia smiled, obviously proud with himself. "How else would I have trained him?"

I chuckled, my previous anxiety of Russia's horse having – mostly – disappeared. But right when Russia dismounted Mstislav, China spoke up.

"Yes, pretty good enough for that horse," he said. "But I much prefer what I do with my horse, Junjie."

Suddenly intrigued again, since I remembered that Junjie was a small horse like Kuroashi, I looked directly at China with questioning eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You don't remember?" China asked, his eyes now questioning too. "I said Mongolian horse was war horse for Genghis Khan."

"Yeah," I nodded, suddenly recalling that as well. "But, were you talking about what they can actually do on them?"

"Yes," China nodded back. "I can actually to plenty of thing on Junjie. But there is one in particular I have in mind."

"Oh, what is it?" I asked. "Is it hard to do at all?" I kind of knew it was redundant to ask that considering all I'd seen, but I couldn't help it.

"If he is willing, allow me to show you, Seychelles." He then stood up from the snow and headed toward his small Mongolian horse. Now that I paid close attention, even though China's horse was small, I could kind of see why the breed could be a war horse. He looked pretty sturdy and strong, obviously ideal for a mighty warrior to ride across the plains of Asia. Thinking that only interested me all the more to see what China said he could do.

Before he mounted Junjie, China picked up a medium sized stick off the ground, making me think he imagined it as a sword. I raised my eyebrows, wondering if he was going to cleave something with it, until China pointed forward.

"See that tree?" he called. I nodded and he smiled. "Now watch what I can do!" I felt my smile get bigger, until I heard Japan near me speak.

"I hope sis doesn't involve decapitating one of us wis sat stick," he said, just loud enough for me to hear. Although I knew China wouldn't do that, I felt a chill travel down my spine at the sudden image of a Mongol warrior doing just that.

But just then, I heard a playful snort from China's horse, and I turned back to watch. His eyes narrowed and intense in concentration, China heeled his horse into a swift gallop, holding the reins in one hand and the stick in the other. Junjie's mane whipped in his rider's face as he leaned forward in the saddle.

Then, right before my eyes, I gasped as China leaned to the far right, out of the saddle! I wanted to shut my eyes, fearing he'd fall off, but I pulled my hands away from my face and kept watching. The stick still in hand, he raised it and hit what I believed was a rock, sending it flying toward and then hitting the tree he pointed at earlier.

"Woah!" America shouted. "Now that's what I call a game of polo!" I immediately looked toward Britain the moment he said that. But his face seemed to be expressionless as he politely gave his applause for China's incredible move. When I turned to look at China again, he'd pulled himself back into the saddle and slowed Junjie down to a trot, giving him a friendly scratching between the ears. The light in Junjie's eyes instantly told me he liked it.

"Now that is how you move on war horse!" China smiled as he pulled his horse completely to a halt. But just when he did, he gasped and looked at me.

"Seychelles, you haven't shown us yet what you can do with your horse!" As soon as he said that, everyone turned to me and my face went red. Me? Me and my horse? Shimmer? I hadn't exactly thought about that, and didn't know if I could do anything that hadn't been done by everybody else. But Italy just smiled reassuringly at me, as though he could read my mind.

"Yeah, come on, Seychelles. There's got to be something none of us have seen that you can do! You're only the last one so it shouldn't be too hard!"

In my mind, being last did make it all the harder. And I struggled to say something, if only to get them to stop staring. Suddenly, I spotted Shimmer still out in the field. She'd stopped grazing, and turned her head toward me, her expressive eyes looking as though they were silently communicating with me. And then, almost out of nowhere, I remembered. I did have something I could do with Shimmer. And I smiled as I knew it was something that would completely blow everybody's minds.

"Alright," I finally nodded. "I guess I do have a little something. Follow me." As I stood up, everyone else did as I said and followed me over to Shimmer. Though I usually did the trick I had in mind without her tack on, I didn't think it would matter today. But as I mounted her and looked at everyone staring at me again, I felt the redness return.

"Oh come on, I'm sure it can't be that bad if you're getting this embarrassed," Britain said. Now I felt like my face was on fire.

"Don't listen to zat retired pirate," France then said, smiling at me more warmly than flirtatiously. "Show us what an Arabian can do, Seychelles."

"And just remember, even if you fall, you got some nice soft snow to land in!" America smiled too. While the thought of falling didn't exactly comfort me, it did give me a new determination to do what I wanted right.

"Thanks everyone. Hope you enjoy it!" I tried to smile. I then gathered the reins in my hand and urged Shimmer into a walk. She quickly obliged. I then let her go into a fast trot. And as everyone watched, I did it.

First, I let go of the reins. Then I took my feet out of the stirrups. Pretending no one was watching me, that it was just me and my lovely horse, I slowly lifted myself into a standing position while she continued to trot beneath me. I then loudly clicked my tongue, signaling Shimmer to go into a canter. My arms stretched out on either side of me, I kept my balance while she hastened around in a circle.

As soon as I knew I had it, I leaned forward, lifting my leg behind me and barely touching Shimmer's ears with my hands. After a few seconds, I stood upright again and called out, "Woah!" Shimmer quickly began to slow to a trot, then a walk, and finally, a complete halt. Then, making sure I had enough breath to take it, I jumped back down into the saddle, and felt immediate gratitude for being a girl.

I looked up at the others, and was actually somewhat delighted that they were just staring with wide eyes and open mouths. But I smiled, knowing the best was yet to come. I patted Shimmer on the shoulder, and with me still in the saddle, she gave an honorary bow. And we were both instantly rewarded with a great applause.

"Not bad, Seychelles," Germany smiled shrugged his shoulders. "I honestly hate to admit it, but, you've trained your horse vell."

"Now I know why my horse has some Arabian blood in him!" Britain grinned. "Nice job, Seychelles!"

"See, I knew you could do it!" Italy exclaimed, his smile the biggest out of all of them. "Now we've just got to find something for Stella to do!"

"I vouldn't bet on zat if I were you!" a harsh voice suddenly said across the field. All of us immediately looked around, wondering who could have said that, shrugging our shoulders at each other for not knowing, until my eyes settled on someone on a black and white pinto horse at the field entrance. Someone I quickly recognized.

"Yes, it is I!" he said, his horse beneath him looking every bit as proud and full of himself as his rider. "Ze awesome Prussia!"

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 _Reviews would be appreciated._


	4. An Awesome Chapter for Ze Awesome One!

**Horses of Hetalia**

Chapter 4 – An Awesome Chapter for Ze Awesome One!  


We all froze where we stood so fast I could actually feel it. And Prussia seemed to quickly notice. He laughed in that way only he could, so much so that his horse actually reared a couple times and neighed, as though he were laughing, too. Behind me, I heard Shimmer neighing back. I turned around and saw she too was rearing. But unlike Mstislav, I knew how to get my own horse under control. I quickly grabbed her reins and looked her sternly in the eyes, telling her she didn't need to react like that. Still holding onto her, I turned back around toward the intruder.

"Prussia!" Germany shouted, giving voice to everyone's pent-up frustration, including my own. "Vat do you zink you're doing here?"

"Vy, taking ze front seat of the show, 'Idiots and zere Four-Legged Friends!'" Prussia laughed again. "You know I couldn't resist!"

"Wait a minute," Britain glared at him. "Are you telling me you've been watching us this whole time?!"

"Duh, vy vouldn't I, Thorough-breeder?! It's about time zis fanfiction writer introduced me! I'm surprised zey haven't already!"

Ignoring his ridiculous comment, I turned my attention to his horse. He seemed to be biting the bit very hard, and his red eyes looked restless.

"If I were you," I said, having suddenly found the courage in my voice, "I'd pay a bit more attention to the horse beneath me rather than those in front of you. He looks like he's about to shoot out from underneath you. And he probably wouldn't if you kept that crop from his view."

"Like H-E-double hockey sticks he vould!" Prussia said, sounding as though he found the idea ridiculous. "Zeus is a Trakehner! My own personal breed! Zough, technically Lithuania gave him to me but, zat's beside ze point! As far as I'm concerned, he's alvays been mine! Aren't you, little buddy?"

He then gave a pat on Zeus's neck, and Zeus immediately responded with a toss of the head. "Besides," Prussia then said, "vat is a country zat doesn't have a breed of her own thinking she can tell ozers zat do vat to do?!"

"Dude, you need to get your eyes checked!" America then said, looking as though he was about to laugh.

"Says ze one who vears glasses!" Prussia retorted before bursting out laughing himself.

"All heroes wear glasses! And your eyes are red so maybe I _should_ be concerned! But, whatever. What I'm trying to actually say is, if you've been watching us all this time, you would've seen what Seychelles did on her horse. Pretty hard if you ask me."

I raised my eyebrows and smiled a bit. For fear of stroking his ego, I didn't say this, but I thought what America did just now was really heroic.

"You zink zat's hard?!" Prussia said, obviously not thinking what I was. "It takes utmost patience and concentration to show a horse off to its finest, unlike you crapwads!"

By now, Germany was getting red in the face, and his fisted hands looked like they were begging to punch something, or someone. "I'll show you crapwad, you little –"

But before he could finish his threat, someone we couldn't see called out, "Now vat's going on here?" And before any of us could answer, in walked from behind the woodland trees two riders we all knew pretty well.

"Oh, Austria, Hungary, ciao!" Italy got up on his toes and waved his hand. "We were just showing Prussia what a big horse's butt he was, that's all!"

To my sudden and silent delight, the blood drained from Prussia's face as Austria looked at him. "Is zat so?" he raised a curious eyebrow. "And considering ze vay you're all dressed, it looks like Hungary and I weren't ze only ones who thought a ride vas a good idea today, huh?"

"And why not?" Hungary smiled as she shrugged her shoulders. "The weather is good and we've finally gotten done decorating the school after much too long a week."

"That's exactly what I thought!" I exclaimed happily. "In fact I invited everyone here to come with me. Thought it'd be more fun."

"Until Herr Bigshot here interrupted you, I assume," Austria said, giving Prussia a harsh and critical look.

"So vat if I did?!" Prussia then spat out. "And so vat if I decided to give zese morons a lesson on how to deal vith a horse?"

"Vich you clearly know nothing about," Austria retorted. "If you'd paid attention all zese years, I assume you'd have been taught more zan a few lessons yourself."

"Ja, like you obviously did by starting ze Spanish Riding School before I could!" Germany almost pouted.

"Be happy, Germany, zat you're riding one of ze stallions at all," Austria then retorted as he stroked the neck of his horse. It was only then that I noticed she looked almost identical to Germany's horse, with the same snowy-white color. Except she was a mare rather than a stallion.

"Oh right!" I then said. "Is your horse a Lipizzaner too? Can she do what Germany's horse can? The 'Airs Above the Ground,' he called them?"

"Vy yes she is, Seychelles," Austria smiled before he frowned again. "Unfortunately, Marzia is limited to what she can do on ze ground. Only stallions are strong enough to do vat I've trained zem all zese years to do."

"Oh, zat's unfortunate," France suddenly said. "But what should it matter how many tricks a horse can do? All zat should really matter is the beauty zey can bring!"

"Says the one who was so eager to show us how high his horse can jump," Britain said mostly to himself as he crossed his arms.

But France still took the stab. "Says ze one who named his horse Prince!" he sneered at him.

"That was not why I named him that!" Britain sneered back. "If you'd been listening you would've known I named him for the Prince of Wales!"

"Ah, oui, name your horse after someone who should've taken the throne by now!" France laughed to himself.

"At least I have a monarchy, biter of revolution dust!" While we then ignored Britain and France as they verbally berated each other for the usual billionth time today, I turned my attention to Hungary as she let out a frustrated huff.

"Male countries," she said. "Always have something to fight about, whether it be land or who's the better horse breeder." This she said while scratching her horse between the ears. I now noticed that she was riding a stallion that was all black, except for the very small diamond shaped mark on his forehead.

Hungary smiled as soon as she heard the delighted whinny. "My Attila here is a Nonius. And he's as fine a military horse one could ask for."

I was about to comment on how she just remarked about male countries always fighting when she herself had a military horse, when Prussia beat me to it with an even more snide opinion. "And vy is he called a Nonius? Is it because he has no special breeding to speak of?!"

"I'll have you know he has both Anglo and Norman roots!" Hungary retorted. "At least I didn't borrow his breed from another country!"

"You mind your own business, 'She Who Called Me Turdsickle!'" But just then Prussia and I gasped in surprise at the same time as we noticed a sight none of us had seen all day. Prussia's horse and Austria's horse looked almost like they were trading greetings with each other. In fact, it almost looked like they were kissing.

And apparently, we weren't the only ones that were shocked. "Oh no," Hungary looked like she was steaming. "You did not!"

"I did not vat?!" Prussia asked, making no attempt to hide his incredulity. But Hungary didn't look like she was buying it.

"My horse is the only one allowed to mingle with Austria's!" she said. "Since I've claimed Austria's vital regions it only makes sense! So get your horse away from him!"

Austria himself looked slightly alarmed at what she said. "Uh, Hungary, zere's really no need to react so. I'm sure zey vere just saying, 'Hallo.' Horses do that. Besides, a Trakehner has got nothing on a Lipizzaner."

"I heard zat! Come here and say zat to my awesome face!" Prussia snarled. But before Austria could say anything, we all jumped a little bit when we heard a loud cry.

"GERMANY!" It was Italy, and he sounded really desperate. "Germany, help!" He then came rushing forward from the field. I didn't allow myself to wonder when he'd left to go there as he raced toward Germany, looking for all the world like he was about to explode from how much he needed him.

"Vat is it, Italy?" Germany asked calmly. "You're scaring everyone." He then pinched his nose and muttered, "Me, most of all."

"But I have reason to be!" Italy cried as he tugged on Germany's sleeve. "They're gone! Disappeared! Poofed out of existence!"

Deciding I had to intervene, no matter how awkward it may be, I placed my hands on Italy's shoulders. "Who's gone, Italy?"

"My horse, Stella, Seychelles! That's who!" he replied hysterically. "Germany's and Japan's too!"

"VAT?!" Germany then shouted at the top of his lungs. "Nani?!" Japan also shouted as loud as he seemed capable.

And right then, everyone instantly descended into a well of hysterics. One that, for the moment, seemed impossible to stop as we all tried to comprehend Italy's message. Stella, Pluto Agostina, and Kuroashi were all gone.

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 _Reviews would be appreciated._


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